


micis

by handydandynotebook



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dark Crack, Demogorgon - Freeform, Domestic Violence, Drowning, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mild Gore, Murder, Racism, Rough Oral Sex, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handydandynotebook/pseuds/handydandynotebook
Summary: Five more times Neil Hargrove dies.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Neil Hargrove, Neil Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Neil Hargrove/Susan Hargrove
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	micis

**Author's Note:**

> more micro-snippets from different 'verses, ig. bc we all love a dead!neil, amirite.

(1)

Family vacation’s been a blast so far. Max can barely believe it. What she’s been dreading for weeks is actually going so well it feels like a dream. Neil’s been in a good mood the whole time, genial and easygoing. He tipped the street performers posing as statues, didn’t get frustrated with Mom when she misplaced her room key, gave Max extra money for the arcade. Neil’s even being nice to Billy, only gently chided him and affectionately ruffled his hair when he came back to their room hours too late last night, glassy eyed and reeking of weed. 

Max supposes Neil’s in such a good mood because he’s been enjoying himself. She watches him from a distance, paddling in the lazy river, as he continues to enjoy himself at the swim-up bar. Neil is really, really enjoying the swim-up bar. 

Max swims over to the steps and gets out, walking across the slick concrete. Mom is curled up in a lounge chair with her book. Billy is nowhere to be seen. He was peacock-ing pretty hard earlier, first for this busty lady who had a goofy swan inner tube, then for the beefcake lifeguard guy who was supervising the waterslide. When Max scans with her eyes she doesn’t find the swan inner tube and notices the lifeguard guy’s been replaced by a taller, slimmer girl with braids. So Billy’s probably off with one conquest or the other, getting busy. Gross. 

Max takes a dip in the hot tub, settling right up against one of the jets. From here she has a good view of Neil. He’s still hanging out at the swim-up bar. She’d bet it’s his fifth or sixth drink. He’s smiling. It’s lopsided and strange on his face. He’s never this happy at home. 

Max entertains the idea from a distance. It’s only that, an idea. A private morbid joke. But when Neil gets out of the water and shuffles about poolside, he’s near staggering. He’s clearly drunk, off balance, and Max decides it could be more than a joke. It could be worth a shot. 

She gets out of the hot tub and hurries over as quickly as she can without slipping on the wet concrete. She catches up with Neil and tugs on his hand. 

“Hey, sweet pea,” he slurs. “Having fun?” 

“You bet.” Max flashes a grin. “I really, really want to try out the diving board.” 

“Go right ahead.” 

“I can’t by myself. It’s after nine and kids aren’t allowed in the deep end by themselves after nine. Could you come with me?”

Neil pauses, blinking slowly. 

“Please?” Max adds, batting her eyes. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Sweet, thanks.” Max pulls him along to the deep end. 

Neil treads water while Max launches herself off the diving board over and over. She pulls off cannonballs and swan dives. She attempts a somersault andher timing is totally off, it ends with chlorine shooting up her nose. Neil politely golf claps anyway. 

Max springs from the diving board tirelessly. She twists and bends, does a jumping jack in the air before she plunges in feet first. Eventually she’s panting but not nearly as spent as her drunken stepdad who can barely keep his eyes open. It’s at this point Neil says it’s time to get out. Max agrees. She reaches the ladder faster than he does, hefts herself poolside, butt right on the edge, hands gripping the slick concrete. 

When Neil sluggishly paddles over, she stretches out her legs, places her heels squarely on his shoulders. 

“Whatcha doing, Maxine?” he blinks at her, bleary, puzzled. 

“Max,” she corrects as she pushes down. 

Neil goes under. Bubbles come up to the surface. He bobs, resurfaces spluttering. Max grips the concrete tighter, tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she pushes him down again. She quickly snaps her legs together, locking her calves around his neck, ankles crossed behind his head. Neil is bigger, stronger, but in the water like this, he has no purchase. He couldn't hope to, it is sixteen feet deep. He’s intoxicated and disoriented, with no stability beneath him to resist upon as her calves squeeze tightly to his throat. 

As long as Max maintains, she can do this, she knows she can. She draws a deep breath and tastes the chlorine of the pool water. She slightly lifts her hips and then drops her weight with everything she’s got, gripping the concrete so tight it is painful. Neil is too drunk to tread water and free his throat at the same time, hands only clumsily tugging at her legs while his own vigorously pump back and forth, back and forth. He exhausts himself as he churns through the water, getting nowhere. 

Dozens of tiny bubbles stream up to the surface, popping one by one. Max keeps squeezing, holding Neil underwater as she carefully glances around. The hotel water park is full of people everywhere but nobody notices her. No one sees at all, parents busy herding their own kids, teenagers posturing like Billy, beach balls bouncing from happy hands and glasses clinking in celebration at the swim-up bar. 

The bubbles become less. Neil’s movements grow even more sluggish. Max swallows, maintains. 

Because she knows the unexpected fun of family vacation will end as soon as they get home. That it will go back to Neil beating Billy until he’s bloody, screaming at Mom until she quakes in the corner, threatening to lynch Lucas should Max ever get within ten feet. It is better for everyone this way. 

Eventually there are no bubbles at all. The weight under Max’s legs goes entirely slack. She waits another minute or so just to be sure and then releases, sliding them back, kicking harmlessly through the water. 

“Help! Help!” she calls, hands cupped around her mouth. “I think my dad is drowning!” 

(2)

Billy still has the tire iron in his hands when Susan walks into the kitchen. She looks down at Neil on the floor, the blood spreading beneath his crown and then up at Billy again. Her lips part in an expression he cannot read. 

“He was gonna hurt Max,” Billy gets out. “She, uh, she ripped those jeans that were kinda pricey and he got all pissed off. Started screaming about how he was gonna spank her, so I stepped in. She’s okay, she’s in her room but I…I just…” 

Blood glistens on the metal, slick between Billy’s fingers. Susan nods as she steps over her husband and sets her grocery bags on the table. 

“I’d better get the bleach,” she hums, soft and troubled. “Mm, maybe the lye…” 

And of all the things Billy expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that. 

(3)

Susan knows it must be an extraterrestrial. There is simply no other explanation for the odd creature that found its way into the basement. It's unlike anything she’s ever seen before and it grows at a freakishly rapid pace. 

She supposes she should be frightened of it, knowing that it is not of this world. But it’s incredibly affectionate with her. Much more than her forceful husband, or her irate stepson, or her prickly daughter. The extraterrestrial nuzzles its strange body into Susan’s hands and clicks happily when she strokes it. 

It must be a friendly extraterrestrial. Like the one in the Spielberg movie. 

At the end of the week when her friend has grown to about the size of the cat, Susan realizes it must be a carnivore. It had liked bacon grease prior to developing the rows and rows of teeth in a mouth like blooming petals, so she supposes she should have expected this. She continues to provide it bacon grease and hamburger, but keeps the basement window open so that it can leave to hunt and return as it pleases. After all, most carnivores prefer fresh meat. 

Susan names her friend Flora because of the shape of its mouth, a mouth that continues to grow along with the rest of it. By the time Flora is the size of a labrador, it’s a horrifying beast, really. It can hiss and shriek in unearthly tones, the petals of its mouth stretched wide to showcase all those teeth. 

But Flora always remains gentle with Susan. Flora is a frightening friend but really, Susan’s only friend. So she pushes away her aversion at the creature’s appearance and continues to cuddle it in the basement. She happily bring it bowls of bacon grease and offers it belly rubs when it rolls onto its back. Susan tells Flora stories in gentle tones and sings to it sometimes, because while they don’t share a language, the creature always seems to perk up at the sound of her voice. 

Susan pays no mind when the lights in the house begin to flicker, how at times Flora will seem to disappear entirely, how the collection of missing pet posters on the telephone pole triples. 

Flora remains gentle with Susan even as it grows bigger than Susan herself, but the same cannot be said for her husband. Susan doesn’t mean for her teeth to catch on his cock. She really doesn’t. But Neil’s ramming it into her throat so hard, so fast, pelvic bone painfully smashing to her face and it just happens. 

Her teeth catch and Neil lets out a roar of disapproval, shoving her to the floor. Susan stands as she stutters apologies. Neil won’t have any of it, he backhands Susan so hard her ears ring. She stumbles back, doesn’t dare reach for her cheek even as the stinging recedes to a numbness that prickles through the entire side of her face. 

The power in the house suddenly goes out. Neil curses and even in the dark Susan retreats, slinking away until her back hits the wall. She recognizes Flora’s shriek, otherworldly and piercing. It could make her ears bleed. The hellish shriek is followed by a human shout that ends in a grotesque, moist crunch. Susan’s splashed with thick, hot liquid. The scent of copper suffuses her nostrils. 

When the lights come back on, Neil is headless. His neck ends in a torn stump. His spine stands out like a stark white ribbon webbed by pink and red glossy meat. Susan’s legs go weak and she sinks to the floor, scrunching against the wall. 

Flora tilts its head, bloody mouth closed. It lowers itself to all fours and crawls over to Susan, lightly bumping against her injured cheek. Susan exhales shakily. Flora clicks and draws Susan against its body with its forelimbs, practically cradling her with its oddly long body. It continues clicking, insistent and affectionate. Susan relaxes into the strange sensation of her friend’s unusual skin and tucks a smile into its bloodied chest. 

“Thank you.” 

(4)

Billy wrestles Neil into the chair, using his weight to keep him in place while Susan restrains his limbs with heavy duty duct tape. Neil does not subdue easily. He thrashes and kicks, uses his body like a bull. He does not subdue easily but there are two of them, and one of him, and Billy’s outsized him for the last year or so. The effort of subduing him leaves the both of them bruised but eventually subdued he is, right where they want them, stuck in the chair. 

Neil opens his mouth to curse and Susan slaps duct tape right over it. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Billy says, frowning. 

Susan’s blood goes cold. She feels her mouth drop as her stomach stirs with the beginning of panic. 

“Just kidding.” He cracks a devilish grin. “Oh man, you should see your face.” 

“That’s not funny!” Susan lightly swats her stepson’s shoulder. “That isn’t funny at all!” 

“Yes, it is. You’re laughing too.” 

“I am not…oh, okay, it was a little funny,” Susan concedes, can’t bite back her grin. 

She opens up the plastic bag. 

“Can I tie it?” Billy asks, humor dissipating but smile still on his face. 

“Of course you can.” She shakes it open as wide as it will go and passes it to Billy. 

He puts it over his father’s head. 

“Make sure it’s taut,” she reminds him. 

“Yeah, I know.” He rolls his eyes, pulls the plastic so it’s flush with Neil’s face and ties it tight to ensure there’s no airflow. 

Susan leans back against the wall. Upon finishing the knot, Billy winds around to join her. Shoulder to shoulder they stand in the storage room they rented for this very purpose and no other. Together they watch Neil Hargrove suffocate. 

(5)

Neil doesn’t talk much after Starcourt. He’s so stoic, he’s almost blank. Susan leaves him be. She’s on her best behavior and does what she can to ensure distance between him and Max although he doesn’t display any outward inclination toward violence, toward anything really, silent as a stone. But threats don’t have to be outward to be present, this Susan knows. 

The morning after Billy’s funeral, Neil brings a gun into the kitchen. Susan instinctively yanks Max behind her. She’s never been one to raise her voice, but this, this is— life or death. 

Susan screams at him so loud, so hard it strains her vocal cords. On the stove is a wrought iron skillet full of hot grease. She thinks maybe she can fling it at his face. Grease surely can’t travel as fast as a bullet but maybe she can blind him, maybe he’ll misfire. She wants to dive for it, but that means leaving Max without a shield and suddenly Susan doesn’t know which is or isn’t the more dangerous choice to make. 

Neil makes his choice first and it’s neither of them. He blows his brains out all over the breakfast table, splinters of skull and squishy matter spraying over three plates of scrambled eggs. 

**Author's Note:**

> the bit with the demogorgon was once a longer fic but it had a downer ending and we don't need that. i've full-stop overplayed my dead!neil hand at this point, but ugh. it's just so fun.


End file.
